


A Day Off

by Talesmaniac89



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Reader-Insert, Sick Character, Sick Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24641074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talesmaniac89/pseuds/Talesmaniac89
Summary: Your stubborn boyfriend never takes a day off, even when he’s feeling under the weather. Luckily Dean Winchester has you around to make sure he takes care of himself.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	A Day Off

“Hey… (Y/N),” Dean’s voice was weaker than normal as it shook you out of the especially confusing paragraph about sirens you’d been reading on the couch. The slight shake in his voice alone was enough to make you drop the book like it’d burned you and turn fully in your seat to let worried eyes find your boyfriend entering the bunker library.

Well… Entered would be a bit of an exaggeration. It was more like he fell through the door and collapsed in a heap. The dramatic entrance easily sending you hurdling out of your seat in your rush to get to his side. Every nerve and muscle in your body on fire with protective concern as you ran across the bunker over to where he was lying, unmoving.

Nearly sliding over the floor in your panicked rush, you dropped to your floor next to your pale faced boyfriend just as his eyes fluttered back open, revealing watery green eyes. He looked so weak. Nothing like your normally strong hunter. 

Worry rested as a heavy stone in your stomach as your hands hovered over his body, trying to find whatever injury or whatever else was hurting him. As if you’d somehow gained the powers to brush off his pain with just a touch of your fingers.

Every worst-case scenario and pained past moment of hurt rushed through your mind as you reached out to him just as he tried to push himself back up. Leaning in carefully you let your fingertips brush over his forehead, pushing damp strands of sandy blonde hair out of the way.

He was scorching hot.

“Dean… Shit. You’re as white as a sheet,” You said, hating the shake in your voice. If there was something seriously wrong then he needed you to be strong. You could get through anything together. But you needed to get a grip. He needed you to be his strong little soldier. To deal with whatever curse or injury or…

“I’m alright, it’s just cold in here…” Dean’s voice was weak and strained as he spoke up over your panicked thoughts. His unfocused eyes squinting as he tried to sharpen what was most likely a blurred version of you to the clearly weak and hurting hunter.

“Dean! You just collapsed!” You could hear the fear in your own voice. The nearly frantic high pitch breaking over the words and unintentionally increasing in volume with every syllable. Yet, you couldn’t control it. Not when you could feel the blistering heat that was rolling off him in waves as your arms wrapped around the back of the hunter that was trying to get back on his feet next to you. Something was really wrong. 

Tightening your arms around him, you refused to give him the space he needed to get back up. Fearing a repeat of the earlier collapse against the bunker’s hard concrete floor. Instead you kept him seated, letting him lean against you as he didn’t even have enough energy to keep himself sitting upright.

“Don’t worry about me… I’m fine, it’s just a cold,” Dean tried to sound gruff, but in his current state the words came out as more of a weakened whimper instead. Letting the words sink in together with the unnatural amounts of heat that rolled off him, your fear was quickly replaced with angry worry.

Dean Winchester was the strongest man you knew. But sometimes that strength could translate into pure idiotic _stubbornness_.

He’d always work until he collapsed. Never letting it show that he was feeling under the weather. To Dean, any sign of weakness could be lethal. 

That’s how he’d survived as a hunter for all these years, by building walls made up of steely determination and an unflinching outer strength. Even though he’d let you scale those walls and invited you into his heart, sometimes he seemed to forget he could just be himself with you. Not Dean Winchester; hunter of all things bad. Just Dean… Your loving boyfriend. 

Forgetting that he could be weak or sick and let you take care of him. Though he’d still be the first to make a fuss about even a sniffle from you. And so, it was up to you to keep his stupidly stubborn ass on the straight and narrow.

_Including_ getting him to rest when he was sick.

“I’ve faced ghosts with more colour in their face than you right now. If you’re sick you’re not going anywhere but straight back to bed,” You said with an annoyed huff. Strict words that were softened by your hand gently stroking back his hair so you could put your forehead against his in a weak attempt to measure his temperature. 

“You’re burning up Dean,”

“I’ve taken on apocalypses with broken bones and bullet wounds,” Dean’s attempt at laughter came out as nothing more than a breathless groan as you struggled to pull the big man back up on his feet. Damn it, he could barely stand. This wasn’t just a bit of a cold, he was _sick_. 

“This is nothing. I’ve just been run off my feet lately with all the cases is all,”

The words he’d probably meant to calm your angry worry did the exact opposite when paired with how the hunter was swaying in place, his cheeks flushed in feverish heat and green eyes watering and distant. 

No, Dean wasn’t waging any war today. Even if you had to call each and every one of your countless enemies and reschedule whatever mayhem they’d been planning to throw your way to someday next week. You’d get him in bed and _keep_ him there. Even if you had to handcuff him to it. 

Of course, you bit your tongue before the threats could leave you. Knowing your stubborn hunter would just make an innuendo or a joke out of them. Hiding his weakness behind his humour like he always did. And you didn’t have the time or strength to roll your eyes. You needed to somehow lug the exhausted hunter through the bunker and back into your shared bedroom before he collapsed again.

“I don’t care what you’ve done before Winchester. You’re not doing anything with a fever as high as yours. Not on my watch,” You sighed instead, reaching out to steady him and place his arm around your shoulders so you could begin the long trip back to his room.

“But…”

“No buts! It hurts me to see you in pain, and I’m not having it. Not when I _know_ you’ll get better with some rest,” You shot down whatever excuse the weakened hunter was trying to give you before the raspy words could even leave your him. Sure, you knew your own straight forward admission was a bit of a cheap shot. But it genuinely did hurt you, and all you wanted was to get him back to bed so you could take care of him.

“Alright… But just for a little while,” Dean’s mumbled whisper didn’t sound even the slightest bit convincing when paired with the sheen of sweat on his forehead or the tremble of a fever induced shiver in his voice. Yet, you let the issue lie. Focusing instead on getting your stumbling and unsteady boyfriend to his bed and under the covers.

“I’ll take care of you. Let’s just get you to bed,” You kept one arm secure around his waist as you took careful, slow steps out into the chilly hallway. Though you yourself were overheating from the sheer amount of heat generated by the sick hunter next to you. Hell, his fever was probably hot enough to be used as a central heating system for the whole goddamn bunker.

How he could have let himself get this bad was beyond you. Or… Not really. No matter the situation, Dean never let himself rest. He never took a damned day off, no matter how big the circles under his eyes got, or how dark his eyes grew from the pain inflicted by the countless bastards you wanted to backhand for taking advantage of the man’s larger than life heart.

“Couch’s fine…” Dean slurred. His fevered mind not even fully registering that you were slowly but surely moving him down the hallway.

“No, you need a bed. Trust me, I might not be a doctor, but I’ve played one on TV. Or at least in Gabriel’s screwed up TV reality,” You shot back, teasing a weak smile out of your tired and sick boyfriend. Followed by a raspy chuckle that quickly morphed into a coughing fit.

—

“Dean… Baby,” You sighed, pulling at the blanket that was locked in place by his body weight on top of it.

As soon as you’d managed to get him down the hallway and through his door, the oh so stubborn love of your life had insisted he could walk himself. Only to fall face first onto the bed and decide that was close enough to what you wanted. Now he refused to move. Even as he was shivering above the warm duvet, still fully dressed.

“I’m fine,” The muffled reply teased a soft smile out of you that stayed hidden from the big baby stubbornly remaining collapsed where he was instead of getting comfortable under the blanket.

“No, you’re not. Sit up, come on,” You sighed, gently turning him around before grabbing his blisteringly hot hands to pull him into a seated position. First, you needed to get him changed. Flannel didn’t breathe well enough and he was sweating. _A lot_. A dry t-shirt, and some sweatpants would do. Though you knew it would be a battle as soon as the thought hit you.

Grabbing the change of clothes from his closet you hurried back to where he was swaying dangerously at the edge of the bed. His head lolling as he tried to find the strength to keep it up.

“I don’t have time for this (Y/N)… Research,” You only caught fragments of the words Dean was mumbling to himself, but as you returned with the clothes you shot them all down with a strict look and a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“No babe, you’re not doing anything today. Nothing except focusing on getting better,” You followed your words with soft fingers gently peeling off his flannel shirt as Dean sat still. His eyes closed and a furrow in his brow betraying how lightheaded and exhausted he was. Having to spend all his energy to even understand your words. 

“Lift your arms,”

“…’m fine,” The weak hunter mumbled, though he complied with your order as arms rose slowly from their sides. Though you had to help him lift them fully to get his t-shirt off, and a new one back on him.

Sinking to your knees, you removed his shoes, and, eyeing his jeans, you sighed. There was no way you could get him out of those jeans and into sweatpants without him cooperating. And he could barely keep his body upright. Forgoing the sweatpants, you chose to instead just remove his belt. 

That was as good as it’d get. Now you just had to get him under the blanket.

However, before you could tell him to lie down, or even push him gently down onto the mattress, Dean’s brow furrowed again. His arms shaking as he tried to push them against the mattress and jaw clenching in obvious strain.

“What is it? Are you in pain?” You hurried to stand back up, ready to call for backup, have Castiel heal him, get pain killers or… But before you could even fully move. Your stubborn hunter pushed himself back off the bed.

Or at least he attempted to push himself off it. Barely getting up before he flopped right back down. His breath strained and ragged from the obvious amount of effort that went into the small movement.

“… Up… Demons,” You couldn’t catch every word as the hunter slurred them through his fever haze. His head lolling from side to side as Dean kept his eyes down and shaky fingers curled into the blanket under him.

“No Dean Winchester. In this house we do NOT get out of bed when we’re sick, and we definitely don’t go demon hunting,” Your lecturing words were soft around the edges from obvious worry as you gently pushed your stubborn boyfriend down until he was stretched out on the bed. Quickly covering him in the blanket and tucking it in around him for good measure. He was shivering through his fever and you needed to keep him warm.

“It’s fine… I can work… Through it,”

“Y’know Dean… Normal people actually listen when people tell them to _rest_ ,” You sighed. Taking a careful seat at the edge of the bed, you let your fingers brush against his forehead and temples.

“Mmmh… Nice,” Dean’s mumbled, a small weak smile on his lips as the furrow in his brow finally disappeared, replaced with a much more relaxed expression. His cheek pushing weakly against your palm as if to make sure you didn’t remove it. 

“… ‘s nice ‘n cold,” He hummed as you smiled down at your exhausted hunter.

“Let me take care of you Dean… You just rest,” Leaning down, you let your lips ghost over his damp forehead as your stubborn hunter gave up on the battle and relaxed into the mattress. His breathing quickly softening into a steady rhythm and hinting at a painless sleep.

—

“Are you ok?” You asked as soon as his eyes opened, looking up from where you’d been trying to quietly put down your carefully balanced tray. Packed with medicine, water, tea, grilled cheese sandwiches and soup. Ok, so maybe you’d been a bit frantic in the kitchen. Unsure what Dean would want when he woke back up. But at least you’d made sure to cover all the basics.

“Yeah…” Dean groaned, the lack of focus in green eyes and the way his voice cracked over the single word doing little to convince you. So instead you let your hand go to his cheek again as soon as you put down the tray. Watching as his eyes fluttered shut with a contented smile. 

“Actually, no,” He hummed against your cool palm.

“You don’t need to be tough around me Dean, you know that right?” You let your fingers comb through his hair as you watched your soldier finally put down his weapons for a little while. Looking smaller and younger all curled up in the blankets with half-lidded green eyes trying to focus on you.

“I know… I can be m’self around you,” Your hunter mumbled through the mess of blankets, his eyes still closed as he nearly purred against your soft hand in his hair. The weak shaky smile was adorable and warm as Dean allowed himself some time to relax and heal. 

“Are you hungry? I brought a little of everything… Drinks and food,” You said with a nod towards the tray after a minute of comfortable silence. Your hand stilling where it was playing with his matted sand blonde hair as Dean’s eyes stayed shut. Only opening a little with an annoyed grumble once you removed your fingers from his hair.

Yet, as his fevered mind finally caught your words his eyes widened in what nearly looked like surprise. Following your line of sight over to the tray full of drinks, soup, comfort food and medicine. 

“Grilled cheese… Please,” Dean sounded hesitant, younger and nearly sad once he found his voice again. His eyes stayed on the tray of food as you helped him sit up and put a pillow behind his back.

“Don’t… Tell me this isn’t the first time someone’s made you food and taken care of you when you’re sick..?” You asked carefully. Worried your words might be tearing at hastily sutured wounds in the hunter’s heart. 

The Winchester brothers hadn’t had what you’d call a normal childhood after all. And as you’d learned since joining up with them; part of the family business creed, scrawled on the back of a truck stop receipt, was to bury the hurt. Six feet under.

“Not since… Not since I was a kid,” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper as he kept his eyes on the food. The furrow in his brow back along with painfully happy memories of a lost childhood. Leaning in, you fluffed up his pillow as you softly let your lips linger on his forehead, erasing the pain that was etched there.

“Well, you have me now, and I’ll always take care of you,” You smiled, handing him the plate of grilled cheese sandwiches, as if the plate of food alone was enough proof to solidify your silent addition of forever.

—

“It’s tasty, but I have no appetite…” Dean only managed a few bites before he put the plate back down with a frown. Looking at the sandwich as if it’d betrayed him. The hunter was used to being a glutton for his comfort foods, so you knew the thought of not being able to finish one of his favourites was a big dampener on his mood.

“It’s fine Dean, as long as you’ve got some food in you then you can take your medicine,” You took the plate from him before the hunter put his stubbornness to the test once more and tried to force himself to finish the sandwich. Hell, once he felt better you’d make him all the comfort foods he wanted. For now, however, he’d have to make do with a glass of water and some antipyretic tablets to break him of that fever.

“Do you need anything else?” You added as you rubbed his arm, watching him grimace at the tablets, but decide to tough it out as his eyes met your worried ones. Careful to put the glass of water within his reach as you placed it back on his bedside table.

“Could you… Come in here? I think I’d feel better if I can hold you,” Dean’s big green eyes looked at you pleadingly as he lifted the blanket with a shaky, weak hand. Your normally tough as nails hunter as soft and sweet as cotton candy now that he’d finally allowed himself to drop his walls and his armour and be spoiled by you for a bit.

“Of course, Dean,” You smiled, carefully climbing fully onto the bed and into the arms of your boyfriend. The heat radiating off him easily melted away what little worry you’d held onto as you wrapped your arms around him and let him hold you as close as fever weakened arms could.

“I’ll always be here with you, so you just rest. I got this,” You murmured into his chest. Feeling lips that were busy placing gentle grateful kisses in your hair give a small smile as he squeezed you even closer.

Dean Winchester was the strongest, most stubborn man you knew. But he was also incredibly sweet.

Though that was only for you, and the four walls of your bedroom, to know.


End file.
